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Book lX^I^I 2_ 



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COPWRIGJIT DSPO£ 



THE CHILDREN 



AND OTHER VERSES 



BY 



CHARLES M> DICKINSON 



NEW YORK 

CASSELL & COMPANY, limited 

104 & 106 Fourth Avenue 

LONDON 

SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON, 

LIMITED 

St. Dunstan's House 

FETTER LANE, FLEET STREET E.G. 

1889 

[All rights reserved'] 



Jlifv J891889« 






COPYRIGHT BY 

O. M. DUNHAM. 



CONTENTS 



Prelude 

The Children 

In the Garden 

The Birds 

She Sleeps 

Humility 

The Easter Bell 

Jealousy 

The VsTren's Nest 

A Prophecy 

The Autumn Woods 

A Morning Miracle 

The Lilies 

How Far From Heaven? 

The Desert Life 

In Shadow 

By the River 

Nature's Creed 

In Bereavement 

Come Unto Me 



Page. 
1 

3 
7 
9 
11 
12 
14 
17 
19 
21 
24 
26 
28 
29 
34 
35 
37 
40 
41 



111 



IV 



CONTENTS. 



In the Library 

Memorial Day 

Eleanore 

Night's Silences 

The Susquehanna 

Ulysses S. Grant 

Of Bessie 

A Breath .... 

Our Dead 

Heaven .... 

A Winter Picture 

Brook and. Breeze 

At Mother's Grave 

The Drummer Boy 

After Sunset 

Sowing for Others to Reap 

His Eyes 

The Army Reunion 

Of Pearls 

The Church of Our Fathers 

Dipped in Sunset 

Love and Law 

The Fines 



Page. 
. 49 



52 

55 

62 

63 

67 

72 

74 

76 

81 

82 

85 

87 

94 

96 

97 

98 

99 

106 

107 

109 

112 

115 



CONTENTS. V ! 

1 
Page. j 

The Grainfield ..... . 116 j 

Night at Santa Fe ..... 118 \ 

The Bluebirds ....... 119 ] 

Death and Darkness ... 120 ■ 

In June . . . . . . . . 122 \ 

The Burial of the Year ..... 125 

Does She Love Me ?...... ISO ', 

My Burdens ....... 132 \ 

Your Birthnight ....... 134 i 

' -I 

NOTE . . ^ 141 ■ 

\ 



r^EAR trua7its from my heart ajid brain, 
Go forth into the tv or Id you see, 
Since you no longer ivill remain 

Content i?i this small home with me. 

You see the^ smile of early morn ; 

I fear for you the chilling eves ; 
You see the rose ; I feel the thorn. 

That waits you in the rose's leaves. 

By homes of rich, by homes of poor. 
Your tender feet must now incline, — 

God grant you find the open door 
Of other loving hearts than mine. 

And if they bid you enter there, 
I pray you, sing, in tender key, 

A nobler song, a sweeter air. 

Than any you have sung for me ; — 



A song offaith^ a song of love, 

That like a seed of heavenly M?'fk, 

Shall float down froin the skies above ^ 
Take root and blossom on the earth. 

But if they f row n^ ajtd will 7iot pause 
And listen to your low refrain ; 

I shall 710 1 mourn so much., because., 
That fro7vn will send you home agaifi. 



THE CHILDREN.^ 



"\ ^ THEN the lessons and tasks are all ended, i 

And the school for the day is dismissed, | 

The Uttle ones gather around me, \ 

To bid me good night and be kissed ; j 

Oh, the httle white arms that encircle j 

My neck in their tender embrace ! i 

Oh, the smiles that are halos of heaven, : 

Shedding sunshine of love on my face ! : 

1 

] 

And when they are gone, I sit dreaming j 

Of my childhood too lovely to last, — j 
Of joy that my heart will remember. 

While it vvakes to the pulse of the past, ; 

Ere the world and its wickedness made me ] 

A partner of sorrow and sin, ' 



THE CHILDREN. 

When the glory of God was about me, 
And the glory of gladness within. 

All my heart grows as weak as a woman's, 

And the fountain of feeling will flow, 
When I think of the paths steep and stony, 

Where the feet of the dear ones must go, — 
Of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them, 

Of the tempest of fate blowing wild ; — 
Oh, there's nothing on earth half so holy 

As the innocent heart of a child ! 

They are idols of hearts and of households ; 

They are angels of God in disguise ; 
His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses. 

His glory still shines in their eyes ; 
Those truants from home and from heaven, — 

They have made me more manly and mild ; 
And I know now how Jesus could liken 

The kingdom of God to a child. 

I ask not a life for the dear ones, 
All radiant, as others have done. 



THE CHILDREN. 

But that life may have just enough shadow- 
To temper the glare of the sun ; 

I would pray God to guard them from evil, 
But my prayer would bound back to myself ; • 

Ah ! a seraph may pray for a sinner, 
But a sinner must pray for himself 

The twig is so easily bended, 

I have banished the rule and the rod ; 
I have taught them the goodness of knowledge, 

They have taught me the goodness of God : 
My heart is the dungeon of darkness 

Where I shut them for breaking a rule ; 
My frown is sufficient correction ; 

My love is the law of the school. 

I shall leave the old house in the autumn, 

To traverse its threshold no more ; 
Ah, how I shall sigh for the dear ones 

That meet me each morn at the door! 
I shall miss the "good nights" and the kisses. 

And the gush of their innocent glee, 
The group on the green, and the flowers 

That are brought every morning for me. 



THE CHILDREN. 

I shall miss them at morn and at even, 

Their song in the school and the street ; 
I shall miss the low hum of their voices, 

And the tread of their dehcate feet. 
When the lessons of life are all ended, 

And death says : " The school is dismissed ! " 
May the Httle ones gather around me. 

To bid me good night and be kissed ! 



IN THE GARDEN. 



"^1 THEN the night comes down 
Over field and town, 
And hides' all the flowers and meadov/ daisies, 
I turn my eyes to the blossoming skies, 
To the far-off gardens of Paradise, 
The mistletoe boughs in the starry mazes. 
The daisy borders, wliite and dense. 
And the nebulous meadows of innocence ; 
To the radiant spots 
Of forget-me-nots, 
The jasmine Harp; and twinkling down. 
The anemones in the Northern Crown ; 
To the tiger-lily that nods and glows 

In the crescent bed of the larger Lion, 
The stars of Bethlehem and Sharon's rose. 
And the great, white river that heavenward goes, 



' 7 



II 



IN THE GARDEN. 

And waters each plant and flower, then flows 
Right on to the beautiful city of Zion ; 

And my heart is so filled with the wondrous view, 
That it overflows in reverent praises, 

And mourns no more for the violets blue. 
For the roses sweet, and the meadow daisies. 



THE BIRDS. 



T^WO wood-peckers live in a hole in a tree ; 

Two robins are happy in one Httle nest, 
Because they are nearer to heaven than we ; 
Though there is no room for a single guest, 
Yet, they have no trouble 
In making up double, 
A soft, warm bed where the Httle birds be, 
On the quilted grass of the wool-lined nest, 
And under the down of the mother-bird's breast. 

They he not awake with an anxious care ; 

They have no thought for their future food ; 
With songs that are happy with praise and prayer, 
They wake sweet sounds in the echoing wood ; 
With no sin to be forgiven, 
They go in and out of heaven, 



lo THE BIRDS. 

Just as they did when Adam was good, 
And have learned there that God sees the sparrow's fall, 
And will feed and shelter and guide them all. 

Apostles of song ! Does the Lord still preach 

His sermons through sparrow and thrush and wren ? 

Are you his evangels to tunefully teach 
His lessons of meekness and love again? 
As the skies were once riven, 
And let a dove out of heaven. 
With a marvelous message from God to men. 

So you, sweet saints, with an angel's wing, — 
Lined with cloudy pearl, or tipped with blue. 
Or the red light of morning as you float through, — 

Come down out of heaven in the early Spring, 

With faith in God in the hearts you bring. 

And the love of Christ in the songs you sing. 



SHE SLEEPS. 



T T OW soft she breathes ! How still she hes ! 

When gentle slumbers close her eyes. 
Her warm heart sets in either cheek, 
A sign that more than words can speak,: — 
A sign that though she is so still, 
And supple is her strong, sweet v/ill, 
Her gentle pulses, are not chill. 
Alas, dear girl, what tears would flow. 
What heart with muffled tread would go 
On to the grave, with weight of woe. 

If no sweet sign of hfe were set 
In your young cheek, like a rose in blow. 

Or if, like rose or mignonette. 
Your breath no more should come and go. 



II 



HUMILITY. 



'T^HE sweetest things have humblest birth: 

The lark in lowlands builds her nest ; 
The arbutus clings close to earth ; 
The river folds deep in its breast, 
The sunset glories of the West, 
And all the stars in heaven's blue zone 
That circle 'round the Eternal Throne. 
The lowliest vales of earth are blest 
With grass and fern and shrub that shun 
The mountain ranges near the sun. 



No oriel-window in the East, no gorgeous sunsets glow, 
No rainbow bridges earth and heaven, save when the sun 
is low. 

12 



HUMILITY. 



13 



The modest, little flowers that grow lowest in the grass, 
Make no shadow on the earth when the summer sun doth 
pass. 



The rose hfts up its bud and flower upon its slender shoot, 
But the sweetness of the roses comes from the rose's root. 



And all the incense in the air springs from the speechless 

sod, 
Which has no other offering or way to worship God. 



THE EASTER BELL. 



'T^HE great, blue dome that over us swells, 

By heavenly breezes gently swung. 
Is God's own beautiful Easter bell, 

And the mighty earth is its tuneful tongue. 

By angel hands on Easter rung. 



Across the faint horizon's rim, — 
Out where the stars in the ether swim, 
From West to East, it whirls and swings, 

Up and down through the fields of air. 
Till all the heaven with music rings. 

And it's Easter morning every^vhere. 

Old "Coronation" comes floating down. 
Like the breath of a rose in a thorny crown, 

14 



THE EASTER BELL. 

And unseen voices soft repeat 

The majestic music of ''Silver Street," 

While an angel chorus chants again : 

" Peace, Peace on Earth ! Good will to men ! " 



Open your soul, and you shall feel 

The rush and thrill of the joyous peal; 

Open your ears, and you shall hear 

Its marvelous music, sweet and clear, — 

The grandest "chimes that ever were rung, — 

The sweetest notes that ever were sung, — 

The song of tiie morning stars, — the tongue 

Of mountain torrents, blending fine 

With the windy hymn of the northern pine, — 

The rippling laughter and pattering feet 

Of streams that dance down their stony street, — 

A diapason of thunder grand, — 

The Easter chimes from the Holy Land 

To Alaska's coast, — the minor tone 

Of winds through tropical forests blown, — 

The organ-peal of the ocean's swell, 
And in the treble, the happiest note 
That ever slipped from a robin's throat, — 



15 



1 6 THE EASTER BELL. 

All welded together, with wondrous spell, 
In one, grand tone of the Easter bell. 



Swing on, ring on, O, beauteous Bell! — 

'Broidered with clouds with their silver hems, 
Inlaid vv^ith pearl and lined with light, 
Or the deep, dark blue of a cloudless night, 

And crowned with a mjTriad starry gems : — 
Swing on, ring on, till thy music tells 
To every heart a.nd to every home. 
That is sheltered beneath thine azure dome. 
The promise of love and life made known 
To a sinful world, in thy joyous tone. 
Swing on, ring on, till every ear 
Thy message of mercy and hope shall hear ; 
Till the crucified Christ to life shall start 
From the rocky tomb of each contrite heart. 
And all the voices of Earth shall swell 
The grand, sweet chimes of the Easter Bell. 



I 



JEALOUSY. 



LOVE you, Dear, but I tremble and start, 
When I think there is only a single place 

In all this world, and that my heart. 
Where heaven and hell embrace. 



When I talk with you, when I walk with you, 
The world is so lovely, so free from care. 

If the fairest dream of heaven came true. 
No heaven could be so fair. 



Things skip and fly that once did creep ; 

The humblest bird, like an angel, sings ; 
What wonder that all my soul should leap, 

And struggle to use its wings ! 

17 



3 JEALOUSY. 

For, the commonest weeds have a scented breath 
And all the colors of earth and sky ; 

And there's nothing in all the world, but Death, 
That is sad enough to die. 

But, if one glance of your love-Ht eyes 
Go out to another, the fiend of Hate 

Springs up in my heart, and earth and skies 
Are blackened and desolate. 

And beauty is crushed, and the jealous knife 
Of hate strikes deep in the heart of love : — 

A hate that would pull down the temple of life, 
And die in the ruins thereof. 

And yet, the demon that rageth thus. 

Red-handed as hell and as black as night, 

Has a look like the angel that walked with us, 
When the world was so happy and bright. 

Ah, I love you. Dear, but I tremble and start, 
When I think there is only a single place 

In all this world, and that my heart, 
"Where heaven and hell embrace. 



THE WREN'S NEST. 

/^UT on the porch in the ivy vine, 

Where Guy in his hammock sits and swings, 
A httle brown wren has built her nest, 
And four blu^ eggs he under her breast. 



She came unsought ; she had no thought, 

But God thought for her, and so she flew 
Through field and forest, to fold her wings 
Where our Httle darling sits and swings. 



Our hearts are filled with a sense of awe. 

When we think that God has been so near ; 
For,, nothing less than a power divine 
Chose that nesting-place in the ivy vine. 

19 



THE WREN'S NESTa 

We thank thee, Lord, for th' approving sign, 

Thy gracious faith in our tender care, 
Set deep in the heart of the Httle wren ; 
For this, we thank thee, again and again, 
And for all thy goodness to us. Amen. 



T 



A PROPHECY. 



HE dead leaves cling 
To the boughs till Spring, 
But the beautiful buds are swelling under ; 
And a thousand things, 
With legs and wings. 
Now wait for Spring in the woods out yonder. 
The arbutus weaves 
Its crown of leaves. 
But beneath, the timid flowers are springing ; 
The sun is unbinding his golden sheaves; 
Through the lonely woods no birds are winging. 
But there's red in the west 
For the robin's breast. 
And blue for the eggs in the robin's nest. 
And a silence that waits for the robin's singing. 

21 



5 A PROPHECY. 

I cannot see 

A bud on a tree, 
Just ready to burst with the joy of being, 

Nor a happy stream 

Through the meadows gleam, 

Nor a rose uncover 

And bkish all over, 
At the envious eyes her beauty seeing ; 

But I feel the whir 

Of wings, and the stir 
Of invisible things, — of the south wind blowing, — 

Of the frost and cold 

Coming out of the mold, — 
Of the sap through the veins of the maples flowing. 

The earth's heart beat 

Out the life and heat 
Stored up in her breast last year, and going 
Into shrubs and flowers, to set them a-growing. 

We shaU welcome soon 
The days of June 
That make the brown earth sweet and vernal. 
And are gathered, at last. 
From the lovely past. 



A PROPFJFXY. 23 

To form a part of the life eternal. 

The flowers will bloom 

From the old year's tomb, 
The glad brooks smg through fields and fountains, 

And the caravans of cloud resume 
Their summer journey across the mountains. 

Bearing wealth untold. 

All the sunset's gold, 
To the heavenly city beyond the mountains. 



THE AUTUMN WOODS. 

"\ 'X THEN the frost goes mowing among the grasses, 

And the wind is reaping the fallen leaves, 
The sun drives out of the grim, old forest, 

The shadows that lengthen the autumn eves ; 
It winds its arms round the oaks and maples ; 

Coaxes out the buds of the coming May ; — 
Like a child come back to its father's dwehing 

It dances along each v/oodland way. 



On the gray, old carpet, with skillful finger, 
Some warm, gold patterns it lays and weaves ; 

The little brown birds still chirp and linger, 
And break the chrysalis of next year's leaves. 

24 



THE AUTUMN WOODS. 2^ 

Pick off the buds, O, brown-winged singers ! 

We can spare some leaves from our summer's store, 
But Summer would never again be Summer, 

If the little brown birds should come no more. 



A MORNING MIRACLE. 



As Christ stands close to both God and Sin. 
So earth meets heaven where the skies begin ; 
But the air is so pure ^ though faijit and thifi^ 
It keeps the earthly out and the heavenly in. 

nPHE river lifts its morning mist, 

An incense-offering to the Sun ; 
Through countless threads of amethyst 

And gold and silver, finely spun, 
It trembles upward through the skies. 
As slowly as a soul might rise, 
Until it felt the magnet-power of paradise. 

'Tis of the earth, but out of it 

Has been distilled each earthly trace ; 

26 



A MORNIA'G MIRACLE. 27 

The watchful skies alone transmit 

The pure through their transparent space : 
The earthy back to the earth is given, 
No longer a part of the river even, 
The heavenly alone ascendeth into heaven. 



THE LILIES. 



'T^HE lilies do not toil, and the lilies do not spin; 

They have to hold their chalices to catch the rain- 
drops in, 

To wash their raiment white as snow, from golden heart 
to hem, 

To justify the words of praise the Master spake of them. 



28 



HOW FAR FROM HEAVEN. 



"FA EAR Love of mine, through whom I know 

The risen Christ still lives below, 
Repeats his miracles of old, 
Turns all the sunset into gold, 
And, with its touch of hght divine. 
Turns all the river into wine. 
Breathes heaven's harmonics through the notes 
The birds drop from their velvet throats, 
Sets all the world a-dreaming of 
Her ancient Paradise of love. 
And brings the skies so near to view, — 
How many miles from heaven are you ? 

I know you're near its bound'ry lines ; 
For, as we stood beneath the pines. 
Your soul went upward in a prayer; 

29 



30 



HO IV FAR FROM UFA VEN. 

You raised to heaven your pleading eyes, 
And lo, the gates of Paradise 

Stood open wide a moment there. 
I caught a glimpse of wondrous things — 
A gleam of glory, flash of wings, — 

A sense of music filled the air ; 
And straightway, from the opening skies, 

A dazzling beam cleft Hke a blade, 

Right through the midday light, and made 
A darkened space to left and right, 

A shadow in the sunniest place, 
And, like an angel's smile of light, 

Fell full upon your upturned face. 



Come closer, Love, and tell me true, 
How many miles from heaven are you ? 
I know your sainted feet have pressed 
The flowery highways of the Blessed, 
And every foot of sky and sod 
To the dear city of our God. 
I knov»^ you hear the choirs that sing 
In the fair palace of their King ; 
And, by the holy thoughts that rise, 



HOW FAR FROM HEAVEN. 

Like timid angels, in your eyes, — 
Your pause to change with trembHng tone, 
Your native language to our OAvn, — 
By all the sweet, mysterious things 
That make me look to see your wings, 
I know a lovelier land than Earth 
Contains the record of your birth, 

That you're a heavenly envoy here — 
An angel clothed in fair disguise ; 
You walk the world with weary feet, 

That 3^oumay make yourself more dear 
Than all the treasures 'neath the skies ; 
Then, hke the North star's magnet-sway — 
Loaned fi-om its place, to wear by day, — 

You lead the soul from sin and care, 
O'er hills where night and morning meet, 

Straight up to heaven, unaware. 



And as I follow, I behold 
Glad glimpses of the gates of gold ; 
And all my homesick soul forlorn. 
Longs for the land where it was born. 
No more Earth's magnet-heart afar. 



31 



32 ^OW FAR FROM HE A VEN. 

Draws to itself each living thing ; 
The silver thread of every star 

Becomes a heavenly leading-string. 
Far through the sky's celestial calm, 
I see the paradise of palm, 

Through which the sunsets burn and blush, 
And winds repeat their heavenly psalm, — 

God's voice within the Burning Bush ; — 
And just beyond, the golden wall 

Where those we thought were in the grave. 

Send happy looks to us, and wave 
Their signs of welcome, over all. 



Some sunshine from Eternal day, 
Falls here and there, about our way ; 
Some flowers in exile bloom to tell 
The glorious gardens whence they fell ; 
And warm air-currents flow by me — 
The Gulf Stream of the ethereal sea — • 
And sometimes fan my heavenward face 
With a strange touch of added grace. 

Like angel's breath or sweep of wing ; 
And we're so near our resting place, 



HOW FAR FROM HE A VEK. 

The very birds come out to sing, 
To cheer us with their song and sight, 
\nd then fly back again, at night. 



I see th' attending stars stoop down 
And follow nightly with your crown ; 
I see the pearly cloud that brings 
And hovers with your waiting wings ; 
And sometimes, in the waning light, 
I tremble lest you fade from sight. 



O precious Guide ! I pray you, wait, 
If first you reach the heavenly gate ; 
For well I know, if I pass through, 
'Twill be that I'm a part of you, 

And not for aught that I have done 
For all my earthly self, the true, 
The purest thoughts I ever knew, 
My noblest aims since life began. 
My hope, my faith in Christ and man, 
And all the love my life has known, 
Are all your own — are all your own. 



Z^ 



THE DESERT LIFE. 



/'^ OD pity the heart untouched by tears : 
God pity the eyes that never are wet 

By the sight of another's woes or fears, 
By the scent of a rose or mignonette, — 
Tender and faint as the song that smote 
The gate of heaven, from a thrush's throat, 
Yet, strong enough to bear and float 

A heavy soul o'er the vanished years, 
To some dear memory ; above it set 
The immortelles of a vain regret, — 
To some small grave by which we know 
The sad, sweet peace of death and woe. 
God pity the Hfe that is withered and dry, 
From a frozen heart and a desert eye. 



34 



IN SHADOW. 

T F the skies were all warm, 

How could clouds and the storm 
Weave a isoft, white mantle to cover and shield 
The flowers and the field, from frost and danger ? 
If there were no night, 
How could a star's light 
Have guided the wise men to the Manger? 



Then, why should we grieve 

In the darkened eve ? 
The cloud is white when the storm has refined it 

The sun is most near 

When the earth is drear ; 
The shadow is made by the light behind it, 

35 



36 IN SHADOW. 

Through a cloud, by day, 

The Lord led the way 
Of slaves to the highest of earthly nations. 

And the earth in her flight 

Through the darkest night, 
Keeps the sun in sight, or the constellations. 

From the awful shroud 

Of the mountain cloud. 
The Father above, his Son commended ; 

And the world's great Light 

Was received from sight 
In a cloud, when he to Heaven ascended ; 

And he cometh again, so the angels say. 
In the self-same way, when the world is ended. 



BY THE RIVER. 



'"PHE sun had lit, and left at his declining 

The stars, as pledges of his morning rise, 
And all the river like a memory shining. 

Of its far, native skies. Iiil 



Thus glory-laden, its soft watchword saying 

To all the piers, it crossed their shadowed bars ; 

And overhead, the Milky Way was strajdng — 
A river deep with stars. 



How like a holy thing, while there we pondered, 
Young Venus glowed upon the brow of even ! 

And earth, we knew, had lost her way, and wandered 
More than half way to heaven. 

37 



38 BY THE RIVER. 

We knew it by the anchored moon entangled 
In tree-tops on the neighboring mountain's hem, 

By stars so near that all the grass, dew-spangled, 
Made images of them ; — 



By the deep hush, as if the whole earth Hstened 
To catch the vespers of the choirs above ; 

And that near sense of heaven, when souls are christened 
With first, fond thoughts of love. 



Ay, thoughts of love ! and yet we talked of letters ; 

'Tis thus we mask each feeling and desire, 
And link our language into icy fetters, 

To smother hearts of fire. 



Since then, the river's soul has gone to heaven. 
And oft returned in the embodied rain, 

But souls we love have left us at Hfe's even, 
And come not back again. 



BY THE RIVER. 39 

Again we walk by the impatient river, 

Returning to the heaven it murmers of; 
And now, no more we speak of books ; but ever 

We think and talk of Love. 



NATURE'S CREED. 

' ' T AM immortal ! " This is Nature's creed ; 

She waves and heralds it where'er we go. 
God shuts himself in every root and seed. 

And works a miracle to make them grow. 
But for his mighty touch, no flower or weed 

Could distil perfume from a clod, or know 

How to mix rainbow colors, ere it blow ; 
But for the soul's instinctive sense of need, 

It would not reach its hands toward heaven so, 
Or bhndly follow impulses that lead 

It from this sure and happy world below. 

Into a future that it cannot knov/, 

And yet, a future where it longs to go. 



40 



IN BEREAVEMENT. 

T N this little room I muse alone, 

Where the sweetest soul yet sent from heaven, 
Twined its little being round m}/ own, 
Then flew back unto its native zone, 

Leaving all my breaking heart bereaven 
Of the rare, strange sweetness it had known. 



Once, I wondered how these narrow v/alls 
Could so much of heaven hold within them; 

Now, I know Night nowhere more appalls. 

For all darkness in a focus falls 

Here, with sorrowing sighs and shapes akin them, 

While cruel echoes mock mv tenderest calls. 



41 



42 



IN BE RE A VEMENT. 



Turn the Past's bright pictures from my eyes, 
Shut the light out and all sound of gladness ; 

What is light, while he in darkness lies, 

But the cloak of Death in bright disguise. 

To bring out its hideous shape ? and mirth is madness. 

Shut the light and heaven from my eyes. 



Oh, the weight of this dead silence here ! 

Oh, the anguish in these vacant spaces ! 
Since I cannot bring his presence near. 
Cannot feel the warm weight of his dear 

Cheek on mine, sweet breath, or soft embraces ; 
Oh, the weight of this dead silence here ! 



Even earth that holds him mocks my woe. 
Setting bright and happy flowers above him ; 

While the grave within my heart will grow 

Nothing save the cypress, through which flow 
Winds of memory ever mourning of him, — 

While the earth that holds him mocks my woe. 



IN BE RE A VEMENT. 



43 



Oh, my Darling, shall I hear no more 

Your sweet, stumbling speech or rippling laughter ? — 
Hear your joyous welcome at the door, 
Or your pattering footfalls on the floor, 

Evening prayer, "Good night," with kisses after? — 
Oh, the moist, warm lips now cold for evermore ! 



Shall I never, never see your face. 

With its glory this dull pane illumine ? — 

Making all the streef a sunny place, — 

Eyes, two heavens of blue, sometimes a space. 

Moist but never clouded, smiles so sweetly human. 

Yet still keeping every angel trace ; — 



Hair that like a golden halo shone. 
Not one bright tint lost or faded even ; 

With a strange, faint fragrance all its own. 

Or from roses in your cheeks, half-blown. 
Look, too far for earth, yet near for Heaven, 

Voice, too tender for an earthly tone. 



44 



IN BE RE A VEMENT. 



Strange I did not note the heavenly trace 
Of parentage in your rare behavior, 

That I did not think the angel race 

Only comes to earth for works of grace, 
Then goes back again ; even our Saviour 

Soon ascended to his heavenly place. 



What, dear Angel, was your mission here ? 

To make me with chast'ning grief acquainted ? 
Thus distil sweet anguish from a tear? — 
To make plain how souls divinely dear, 

Without faith or works, are shriven and sainted, 
Then pass onward to some higher sphere ? 



Tell, oh tell me. Darling, where you are! 

j ust one word would ease this endless aching ! 
I would follow you from star to star : 
I would find you wheresoe'er you are ; 

Cast my body oft" with heart so nigh to breaking, 
And would follow you from star to star ! 



IN BEREA VEMENT. 



45 



Chide me not for mourning — it is best ; 

Art thou wiser than our common mother ? 
Let the hungry instinct in my breast 
Long and mourn, till tossed by its unrest, 

I may reach by shipwreck, if no other, 
The very country where his soul is blest. 



COME UNTO ME. " 



T N the night-watches when no leaf is shaken, 

And earth lies still, as if the stars on high 

Had so entranced her ; then my senses waken. 

Roused by the silence or some spirit's sigh ; 
And, like a voice through happy visions steahng. 

Both heard and felt, and therefore, sweeter far 
Than any sense of hearing or of feehng, 

Fall straight from heaven as light of any star. 
These wondrous words to all my soul appealing ; — 

" Come unto Me, O weary man and maiden ; 

Come ; lean upon Aly breast, 
All ye that labor and are heavy lade?t, 
A7id I will give you rest^ 

46 



COME UNTO me: 



47 



In the bright day when clanging wheel and hammer 

And throbbing engines shake the affrighted air, 
And trade and greed set up their selfish clamor, 

And loud complaint falls from the hps of care ; 
Then straight into my inmost soul retreating, 

Where cloistered Memory shuts out sound and sight. 
And, like a nun her sacred beads repeating. 

Tells o'er those words heard in the still midnight, 
In tone of calm command, yet so entreating ; — 

" Co7?ie unto Me^ O weary man and maiden^ 

Come ; lean upon My breasf, 
All ye that labor and are heavy lade?!., 

And I will give you rest'' 



O Voice majestic! yet so low and tender, 
That the soft footfall of a worldly thought 

May drown its pleading, help me to surrender 

Each clamorous earthly want my heart hath sought, 
All gain or comfort that my Hfe hath wrought ; 

And, if all sense, all rest and pleasure fail me. 
Keep my soul watchful of each sound and light. 



48 " COAfE UNTO MEr 

That when the night comes on, and storms assail me, 
And I must walk by faith and not by sight, 

I st^ll may follow through the clouds that veil me. 
Those far, solt accents, calling through the night ;— 



" Come iinto Me^ O zueary man and maiden 

Come ; lean upon Afy breast. 
All ye that labor and are heavy laden^ 

And 1 7vill give yon rest^ 



IN THE LIBRARY. 



r^ ENTLE Jailer, turn the key 

.'Twixt the outer world and me, 
Shutting out its care and din, 
Shutting all sweet fancies in ; 
With such a prison and such a guard, 
Who would not be Bonnivard ? 



Well I know the winter's snow 
Folds the buried world about ; 

But a sweet smile as we part, 

Falls upon my budding heart, 
Lets the sunshine in and out, 

With a few, warm tears unwept, 

49 



50 



IN THE LIBRARY 

That some tender sorrow kept ; 

And anon the fond thoughts stir 

Where some happy memories were 
Buried out of sound and sight, 
FeeHng bHndly for the light ; 
Through each tender root they move 
With the warmth of early love, 
Fining all this little room 
With a sense of coming bloom, 

Tint of rose and scent of myrrh ; 
And, as if the earth had swung 

Sudden down the troj^ic zone, 
I can see the pink clouds hung 

On the peach trees, newly blown ; 
I can hear the birds and bees 
In Floridian orange trees. 
Where the faint, overburdened breeze. 
With the whole earth's sweetness, goes. 
Southern jasmine. Northern rose, — 
Where the lazy stream scarce flows. 
And the senses swim and swoon, 

In the soft and slumb'rous light. 

In the perfume-breathing night, 



IN THE LIBRARY. ^^ 

As March stealeth into June ; — 
All from that sweet smile that shone 
When you left me here alone. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 



T T OW earth and heaven conspire to keep 

And bless the martyred men who sleep 

In the dear land they died to save! 
How all the forces of the air, 
Of soil and sunshine gather there. 

To guard and deck each hallowed grave ! 



To them, some gentle angel brings, — 
Perhaps an angel without wings, — 

A seed, and drops it in the sod ; 
And lo, a flower, with sweeter breath 
Than anything this side of Death, 

Blossoms and smiles right up to God. 

52 



MEMORIAL DA Y. 53 

Earth robes in green their burial beds, 
The sky doth break above their heads 

Its alabaster box of blue — 
Anoints them with the Hquid gold 
The purest light of heaven can hold, 

.\nd bathes their feet with precious dew. 



How peaceful all the valley lies 1 
Made peaceful by their sacrifice ; 

The sounds of Peace are in the air ; 
And Freedom's angel will not fail 
To linger in our happy vale. 

While her brave heroes slumber there. 



Blow, bugle, soft, for hps that blew 
Full many a stirring tone from you, — 

Pale hps no more by loved ones pressed. 
Throb gently, drum, for hands that beat 
Full many a march for willing feet, — 

Cold hands now folded o'er his breast. 



54 MEMORIAL DA V. 

Heroic men, through you we see 
How nobler death than hfe can be, 

How Godlike, manhood may become !- 
Types of the growth of Christian grace, 
For, as Christ died for all our race. 

So you for kindred and for home. 



ELEANORE. 



"\ 1 TE act as though our hearts were dumb 
We only talk from mind to mind ; 
We keep our kindred hearts confined, 
But still our souls together come. 



Our smiles have lost their tender hght ; 

Our looks are distant when we meet ; 

I wonder not that in the street, 
Love only ventures forth at night. 



It hides for lack of being bold. 

Lest worldly fashion scoff and scout ; 
The world turns love and friendship out, 

Yet sells herself for love of gold. 

55 



56 ELBA NO RE. 

Why, when our hearts are all aglow, 
Let man oppose the Powers above ; 
God made them warm with living love 

Man heaps above them ice and snow. 



By every sunbeam from above, 
By sin unpunished or forgiven, 
By all the unmeasured gifts' of Heaven, 

We feel and know that God is love. 



Its incense breathes through flower and sod; 
The birds that make heaven's blue bell ring, 
When most they love most sweetly sing, 

And prove their kinship unto God. 



Then, while love spans the Universe, 

And runs through all that. God has given, 
Why do we turn our backs on heaven. 

And shrink, as if it were a curse ? 



Eleanore. 

Why does it tinge our cheeks with shame, 
Make eyehds droop and peace take v/ing. 
When it's the only heavenly thing 

That passed the angel's svv ord of flame ? 



I know full oft thy heart is sore, 
And sighs for something to caress ; 
Yet, dares not show its deep distress ; — 

Why art thou weeping, Eleanore ? 



Ah, yes ; we are not understood ; 

The world's a slave to pov/er and pelf ; 

She only seeks to find herself. 
And never sees a trace of good. 



She brands each kiss, each fond embrace, 
With the dark signature of Sin, 
Sets Guilt where pure thoughts enter in, 

And Vice's mask on Virtue's face. 



5? 



5^ ELEANORE. 

She spurns the gold and hoards the dross, 
And all that's pure and fair doth shun ; 
She spurned the love of God's own Son, 

And hung him bleeding on a cross. 



Why Hsten, then, to what she saith ? 

While pure love calls with 3^earning tone, 
And Memory pleads how we have known 

There's heaven this side the gates of Death. 



I feel the pulses of the Past, 
The thrilhng of thy finger-tips ; 
Our souls are creeping through our Hps 

Our eyes have found a tongue at last ; — 



A tongue that knows no worldly art, 
A speech that's sweet beyond compare 
No language can be half so fair 

As whispers of a loving heart. 



E LEA NO RE. 59 



The evenings now are clear and calm ; 

The earth is bound with silver bars ; 

The sky is full of floating stars ; 
The breeze is happy with a psalm. 



It tells me of the old, dead year, 

When lingering hy thee long and late, 
I wandered half way to the gate. 

Then hastened back again, to hear 



My name by thy dear Hps caressed ; 
To hold thy trembHng hand once more 
To say, " Good bye, dear Eleanore," 

And — let thy memory tell the rest ! 



I left thee with a tender plight, ^ 

And thy young cheek all wet and warm ; 
And gazing on me till my form 

Was lost amid the shades of night. 



6o ELEANORE. 

O blest remembrance ! that still keeps 
Each word and look of soft control — 
The thrilling touch of soul on soul, 

And mimic dreams when Memory sleeps ! 



O special charge of Heaven, to me 
Thou art the queen of womankind ! 
The world may claim my voice and mind, 

But all my heart belongs to thee. 



Through thee it knows our birth divine, 
And thus the Eden story proves ; — 
The immortal hfe that throbs and moves 

Through all thy being into mine ; — 



With sense of loss, and sense of gain 
The Godlike restlessness of rest ; — 
A little heaven within the breast ; 

Yet, all the discipHne of pain. 



E LEAN ORE. 

My heart with deep desire is warm, 

And broods o'er buried thoughts and things 
O, if a wish could borrow wings, 

Or memory only had a form ! 



6i 



My heart the home of bhss once more 
Would be with thee, my spirit-bride ; 
O break the chilling chains of pride, 

And come and bless me, Eleanore. 



O come, as in the days of yore. 

And leave the world for love of me ; 
There is so much of heaven in thee, 

Earth would be Eden, Eleanore. 



NIGHT'S SILENCES. 

T^AY hath her sounds, but night her silences, 

Sleep from the grave and Rest from Heaven come ; 
Earth holds her breath and every voice is dumb ; 
The tired wind's asleep ; Speech forgets her words ; 
Silent as printed notes are notes of birds ; 
In all the earth a single cricket's sound 
Makes voice more dumb and silence more profound ; 
While countless stars with noiseless step march through 
The dome of heaven, in reverent review ; 
No wonder earth is awed, and through the blue 
The awful silence creeps, as Hne on line 
Of suns and planets wheel and march and shine 
Around the throne of Majesty divine. 



62 



THE SUSQUEHANNA. 



T^AIR river that passes 

Through grainfield and grasses, 

By corn still a-growing, by meadows at rest ; 
All the daisies and clover — 
All the trees that hang over, 

Fall in love v/ith their images down in thy breast. 



There, transfigured they stand, 

Leaning out from the land — 
Over fleets of white clouds saiHng after the sun ; 

Looking straight into heaven, 

From morning till even. 
And the stars that shine double when daylight is done. 

63 



64 THE SUSQUEHANNA. 

Since the country was young — 
Since the morning stars sung 

The praises of God o'er the cradle of Time, 
Thou hast flowed from his hand, 
Through the beautiful land, 

Never stopping to rest in thy journey sublime. 



All flashing and flowing ! 

Ail gleaming and glowing ! 
Making music for mill-wheels that waltz by thy side ; 

All the flowers on thy brink 

That have come down to drink, 
Have pitched their white tents by thy musical tide. 



O far-flashing river ! 

Thou art hallowed forever. 
As the path where the angel of Beauty hath trod ; 

And it seemeth to me. 

As I gaze upon thee, 
Thou hast caught the grand gleam of the glory of God. 



THE SUSQUEHANNA. 65 

Now the sorrowful moon 

Drops a silver pontoon, 
All festooned with rainbows to float on thy breast ; 

And our hearts wander o'er 

To the opposite shore — 
To the hill where our loved ones are gathered to rest. 



All the raindrops that He 

In the depths of the sky, 
Hear the psalm of the saints that have gone on before 

And they sing it in rills, 

Down the highlands and hills, 
Till it breaks into ripples at last on thy shore. 



O mount-guarded river! 

Sail seaward forever ! 
Singing anthems to Earth as the ages go by ; 

Over willow and sod — 

O'er the mountains of God, 
Let thy music floa.t back to its home in the sky. 



66 THE SUSQUEHANNA. 

Over rock, over rift, 
As we silently drift 

Down the river of Time to the river of Rest, 
May the stars be as true, 
III! x\nd the heavens as blue. 

As those fast asleep in thy beautiful breast. 



I 



ULYSSES S. GRANT. 

T^ROM the sea-girt East to the prairied West, 

The Nation is calling the lessening roll 
Of heroes it honors a,nd loves the best ; 

And it breatlile.ss waits for the answering soul 
Of a noble son, whose life reads more 

Like a fabulous story of deeds sublime. 
Who shouldered the stars as Atlas bore 

The ponderous earth in the olden time ; 
Who rode unsinged through the furnace heat, 

Where the leaden hail and the hurricane 
Mowed down and windrowed men hke grain ; 
And the terrible flail of the battle beat, 
And reddened the soil, and crushed the wheat, 
And shattered the trees, and shook the field, 
While Death stood close as the hero's shield 
And took his orders, and grandly won 

67 



68 ULYSSES S. GRANT. 

A way through lire and blood and groan, 
For the Freedom that followed each thundering gun, 
And the noblest Peace that the world has known. 



We listen and wait ; but there's no reply ; — 

It cannot be that our hero's dead ? 
Yet, we remember how all the sky, 

From sea to sea, with black was spread 
But yesterday — with only the stars 

Of a rescued Union shining through. 
Why drooped the flag with its shining bars, 
With a band of black round the peaceful stars 

He had saved and kept in their field of blue ? 
Why, from the Nation's eyes and lips. 
Fell tears and sighs in that black eclipse 7 
Why did the drums beat sad and slow. 
And the sorrowing bugles wail as though 
They should never again on earth be blown ? 
Had the soul of our grandest hero flown ? 
Or did Heaven draw near to the sunny crown 
Of mount McGregor, and set thereon 
The ladder that rose from the pillow of stone ? 



ULYSSES S. GRANT. 69 

And did the boys who had entered the grander 
Army beyond the skies, come down 

And rescue from Death their old Commander ? 



God pity us all ! it must be so, 

That the strongest tie of earth is riven ! 
And it's easier now for us to go. 

Since he whose noble life has given 
New love and fame to a soldier's name, 
Now joins the boys who loved him here, 
Under Michael's shield and Azrael's spear. 



Heroes of Heaven ! make a place for him. 
Where his earthly fame will not grow dim. 
In the blazing light of the Seraphim ; — 
That all the angelic hosts may know 
How grand a human soul can grow. 
Since Christ hath died for its sin and woe ; 
For, in all the years that the glorious sun 

Has looked on man, since the world began. 
He never has seen a worthier one, 



70 



ULYSSES S. GRANT. 

Nor a grander record of duty done, 

Nor a nobler victor of battles won ; 

For his heart was as firm as a granite stone, 

Yet, soft as the moss that grows thereon, 

And as free from the stain of a selfish gain 
As a hly's petals that grow apart. 
Untouched, unsoiled by its golden heart. 



Ho ! Orderly, from the heavenly ranks ! 
Make a way for him through the flashing flanks. 
To where his country's Father and Lincoln stand, 
Mid the martyred saints of their native land 
And the guards of Freedom, at God's right hand ! 
Stand back, brave souls under Leonidas, 
That went up to God from the Grecian pass ! 
And you, pure knights in your shining mail. 
That went out in search of the Holy Grail, 
Or to rescue the land where Christ had been. 
From the hated heel of the Saracen ! 
Stand back, bold Swiss of the mountaineers. 
Who Freedom led through the Austrian spears I 
Grand Sergeant, that saw the dear flag fall, 



ULYSSES S. GR Ay T, 71 

And set it again over Moultrie's wall ! 
Stand back, ye heroes that held the fort 
For a starry name and a grand report ! 
Stand back, white knights of Arthur's court ! 
For here is a hero brave and true, 
A patriot pure, and a soldier who 
Was as grand in war as the best of you ; 
And as grand in peace as the world has seen ; 
Yet, with soul as white as the noblest knight 
That wept for the honor of Arthur's queen. 
Go on, grand Saint, to your rightful place ! 
Lift your steadfast eyes to the Father's face ; 
For that is the promise Christ has given 
To the pure in heart as they enter Heaven. 



OF BESSIE. 



\/E ling'ring birds that still rejoice, 

And sing of Edens whence ye came ! 
Ye would not sing a note for shame, 
If ye had heard my Bessie's voice. 



Ye stainless clouds whose purple grace, 
The sunset heightens with its flush ! 
I wonder not that ye should blush 

Since ye have seen my Bessie's face. 



Ye stars that tremble in the skies, 

Half peering through the hds of Night 
I know by your bedazzled sight 

That ye have looked in Bessie's eyes. 



72 



OF BESSIE. 

Ah, modest Moon that sails the bkie! 
No wonder that )^our face grows pale 
And hides behind its snowy vail, 

When Bessie turns her face on you. 



And all ye skies that o'er me roll ! 
Ye could not show so pure a dome, 
If, in its frequent journeys home. 

Ye had not felt my Bessie's soul. 



73 



A BREATH. 



r\ MYSTERY of mysteries, deeper than Death, 

The marvelous life of a single breath ! 
It Cometh unseen, unfelt, unheard, 
As the silent sense of a printed word. 
And as naught in the light of a day most fair 
Tells which is sunshine or which is air, 
So the mighty soul hes hid in a breath, 
As the invisible presence and shape of Death. 
But, you let it fall on a frozen pane. 

And the miracle-makers at once appear; — 
Fair castles rise with their silver vanes, 
The ferny growths of a tropic plain, 
Bushes that bend with a fairy grace. 
And delicate bridges spanning space 

With the utmost skill of the engineer, 



74 



A BREATH. 7^ ] 

And beyond, the flowers and palms upon i 

The hanging gardens of Babylon. j 
O mystery of mysteries^ deeper than Death, 

In the magic power of a single breath ! '\ 



OUR DEAD. 



T T NDER a mantle of stainless snow — 

The New Year's gift of a pitying sky — 
Where the sorrowing winds walk to and fro, 
And the trembling trees are bowed with woe, 
The loved and lost of our households lie. 



Night sets a watch o'er their peaceful rest. 

And around their graves the still stars go ; 
And the white stones stand in their snowy vest, 
Like angels in robes of ascension dressed, 
Awaiting the sleepers that lie below. 

We never knew till the Angel made 

A grave in our hearts, and planted above, 
The flowers of memory that cannot fade. 
How the weight of sorrow upon them laid. 
Will press out the perfume of faith and love. 

76 



OUR DEAD. 77 

We never thought till they were dead, 

That they were guides whom the good Lord gave, 
To teach us the way to the heaven overhead — 
That the only path to Paradise led 

Through the narrow door of the lowly grave. 

O beauteous earth ! — mysterious grave ! 

How grand the dwellers that slumber there ! 
The world about us hath true and brave, 
But the world beneath, in earth and wave, 

Is peopled with heroes every^vhere. 

The saints and sages of every clime. 

The noblest men the world hath known, 
The mighty masters of lute and rhyme, 
There, freed from sin and sense and time. 

Have into the grandest stature grown. 

The soul of Shakespeare, Milton, Burns, 

Still sings ; it cannot help but sing ; 
The soul of Wesley ever yearns 
For fallen men, while Darwin turns 

And reads the riddle of unseen things. 



78 



OUR DEAD, 



Their voices reach no earthly ear ; 

Their thoughts and dreams we cannot know ; 
But if Heaven is in and around us here, 
Will they not choose to linger near 

The hearts they loved that love them so ? 

And why should they slirmk from the moist, warm earth ? 

There all the germs of our being lie : 
There every form of life had birth ; 
There every treasure of worldly worth 

Is closely hidden from human eye. 

And yet to them is made clear and plain 

The hiding place of the rarest gem, 
The alchemy of the sun and rain, 
The course of each electric vein — 

The underground telegraph used by them. 



They hear the music of triclding streams 

That through the valleys beneath us run 
And from the wails where sapphire gleams 
Light up the rugged chasms and seams, 
They see far oif the central sun. 



OUR DEAD. 79 

They feel the warmth of Earth's rnagnet-heart : 

They know the mysteries of the Pole, — 
The fragrant miracles that upward start 
Through shrub and flower — the wondrous art 

Of touching 'with color a perfect whole. 

And now, when the earth seems cold and drear. 

Those cities of the bhssful dead 
Are making the robes of the glad New Year ; 
The Resurrection will soon be here, 

With all the beauty around it spread. 

The flowers will spring from the sheltering mold, 

And meekly bow to the passers by, — 
With a smile from the Hps that are still and cold. 
While a faint, sweet perfume they unfold, 

From the fragrant souls that will not die. 

Through all the Summer, the grass will weave 

A fibrous curtain above their rooms ; 
The sentinel trees that groan and grieve — 
In the cloudless da)^, in the moonlight eve. 

With shadowv hands will count their tombs. 



i 



80 



OUR DEAD. 



And buds will blossom and birds will sing ; 

Life, fresh from the grave, will be ever3^where ; 
And the bird of Hope, that beauteous thing. 
Will gather again her bruised wing, 

And fly to heaven on the breath of prayer. 



I 



HEAVEN. 

T T EAVEN is so far that Thought's strong pinions 

Falter and faint in their wearisome quest. 
Beyond the Universe' grand dominions, 

From the endless East to the endless West; 
From the infinite depths to the heavens above, 

Through the sparkhng space where the planets run, 
And nothing can follow but light and love, 

To the last dim ray of the farthest sun — 
The utmost point of a Hmitless line — 
Its joys immortal and glories shine. 

Yet, Heaven is so near that sometimes the whole 

Of it enters and blesses a single soul. 



8i 



A WINTER PICTURE. 



^1 T^HEN flowers are safe in their winter resting, 
(For nothing dies in this favored clime), 

And birds are warm in their winter nesting, 
The New Year cometh with cheer and chime, 
With the fairest pledges of Hope and Time. 

His is the music of silver bells, 

His is the bloom of the immortelles ; 

The leaves of laurel he doth combine 

With sprays of holly and sprigs of pine, 
Cedar and mistletoe, spruce and heather, 
Cypress and myrtle and moss together, — 
All the immortals of wintry weather, 

Into his wreath he doth entwine. 

For the musical murmur of wood and stream. 
The robin's song and the roses wasted, 

82 



A WINTER PICTURE. Zt, 

He giveth the music of dance and dream, 
And the fairest fruit that is yet untasted ; 

For the summer glories, faded and faint, 

The brightest pictures Hope can paint. 
And what can equal her necromancy, — 

Her magical castles gilt and hghted? 
The rarest fabrics of fact and fancy ; 

(For nothing she moulds is marred or slighted) ; 
The folded bud 
Is perfect and good. 

The opening blossom alone is bhghted. 



There is no green on the oaks and beeches, 

(That is the color that fades and dies). 
But there's fadeless green through the woodland reaches, 

And the tenderest blue above them lies — 

The favorite color of wintry skies. 
And out of the woods all the earth is light. 

From wrecked and snowy clouds run through 
While our guiding stars were hid last night, — 

But what is more fair than a heaven of blue ! 
And what is more rare than a world of white ! 



84 A WINTER PICTURE. 

How level it lies down the young Year's track, 

Hiding every hint of death and trial ; — 
The furrows of time and the tempest's wrack. 
No shadow of night has crossed the dial — 
(The lengthening shadow that slanteth back. 
And never, thank God, falls toward to-morrow). 
No murmer of pain nor sob of sorrow 
Mars the music of voice or viol. 
Nothing that sigheth. 
Nothing that dieth. 
Attends the Year in his march supernal. 
It surely seems as if God had moulded 

The earth and the hea.vens over again. 
That the millennial bud has at last unfolded. 
And death and sin and the past are hurried 
Into the grave of time, and buried ; 
And nothing is saved for the life eternal, 
But the single year of all years when 
The dear Christ died for the sins of men. 



BROOK AND BREEZE. 



^1 /"KILE I rove through glen and grove 

And dotted fields ot daisies, 
All the heaven is full of love, 

Earth is full of praises. 
Here, a stream with human sound, 

And the cool breeze, passes, 
With the incense she has found 

In the trees and grasses. 



Stay ! glad prattler, till you've told 
All your sweet, cool places, 

How you learned to sing, and fold 
Heaven in your embraces. 

Stay ! O balmy breath of air, 
Fresh from fields of Aiden, 

8s 



86 BROOK AND BREEZE. 

Tell me how you've kissed the fair 
Cheeks of many a maiden ? 



But the brook no respite took, 

And went onward, roaming 
Where the mill was standing still, 

Waiting for its coming ; — 
Where the loitering river waits 

For its swifter flowing, — 
Where the big clouds take their freight, 

Then sail heavenward, sowing 
Mist and rain o'er all the plain, 

To keep the grasses growing. 

And the breeze went on, with sweet 

Breath each brow caressing ; 
Then, up to blow the cloudy fleet 

O'er fields that need its blessing. 
Glad I am they came this way ; 

For, oft, when memory moves me, 
I hear some notes the brook doth play, 
And a perfume get, like mignonette. 

Or the breath of the girl that loves me. 



AT MOTHER'S GRAVE. 



A CROSS the river'.s rippling sheen 
They went, with sorrowing tread, 
Through meadows that put up their green 

To rival the blue o'erhead, 
Out where the untrodden streets proclaimed 
The hamlet of the dead. 



Through cloudy vales of blue and gold 
The sun went wandering down ; 

Each spire, and dome, and mountain bold, 
Put on its crimson crown ; 

And a hundred suns were all a-glow. 
In the windows of the town. 

87 



S8 AT MO THER'S GRA VE. 

A little stream slipped through the grass. 
With sad and murmuring sound ; 

On every side, grief's highest tide 
Had left full many a mound, — 

As if His, " Peace be still ! " had fixed 
These waves upon the ground. 



And ever, where the streamlet went 
Broad elms and maples grew. 

Whose heavy shadovv^s o'er it bent, 
Hid sun and star and blue ; 

The heaven it saw from yonder field 
Was all the heaven it knew. 



But, flowers sent up the faint, sweet breath 

Of her Vv'hose breath was still, 
And birds right in the face of Death 

Sang out their sweetest trill ; — 
How could they know, that had not sinned, 

That Death had poAver to kill ! 



A T MOTHER'S GRA VE. 89 

Save these, no earthly sound was heard, 

No living thing was there ; 
Yet, something Hke the awful word 

Of God, was in the air ; 
Which, striking dumb all worldly thought, 

Unloosed the Ups of prayer. 



Was it th' assembled souls of those 
Long gone, the pure, the just? 

Or the all-yearning heart that goes 
To them, with love and trust. 

And beats its life out, day and night, 
Above their hallowed dust ? 



Or was it Christ's sweet soul divine ? 

That comforts those who mourn ; 
And only pours its oil and wine 

On bruised hearts and torn ; 
That lingers most where purest love 

And hoHest grief are borne. 



90 



A T MOTHER'S GRA VE. 

They could not tell ; they only knew 
That Peace so filled the air, 

It left no room o'er sod or tomb, 
For earthly thought or care, 

As if the souls of all the saints 
Still held communion there. 



And straightway, all their grief and pride. 

That darkness and unrest. 
When a new sense starts in lovers' hearts, 

No more their souls oppressed ; 
For Love had rolled away the stone, 

And let in an angel guest. 



Then Memory ceased to paint and con 

Her storied pictures o'er. 
And sweet Hope paused, and gazed upon 

Her future joy no more ; — 
The present brightness dazzled all 

Behind them and before. 



A T MO THER' S GRA VE. g r 

And, kneeling there, beside the dust 

Of one whose Hfe was given 
To making this sad world forget 

Its early loss of Heaven, 
Love found and let them through the gate 

Whence primal sin was driven. 



No wonder that the happy whole 
Of heaven was in her eyes ; 

For, years before, her mother's soul 
Strayed back to Paradise ; 

And she v/as then the cherished child 
Of a saint beyond the skies. 



And she had longed for motherland, 

Until the angels came, 
And led her up the sloping sky, 

Through all its flakes of flame ; 
And she had walked the golden streets. 

And knew them all by name. 



£,2 AT MO THER'S GRA VR. 

Dear One, since that all-hallowed eve, 
Full many a year has flown ; 

And many a fond heart comes to grieve 
'Round new-made mound and stone ; 

And two, where Death has writ his name 
'Neath those we loved, thereon. 



From your dear eyes full many tears 

Have faded half the blue ; 
And in your golden hair the years 

Have twined some silver through ; 
But your sweet soul still keeps the youth 

Of the Heaven it journeys to. 



And even Death has reconciled, 

By adding hoHer ties ; 
For then, you only were the child 

Of a saint in Paradise ; 
But now, you are the mother of 

Two angels in the skies. 



A T MOTHER'S GRA VE. ^3 

God help us to be tender of 

Your every thought arid care ; 
Lest you be tempted by the love 

Of the dear ones over there, 
To take your sunshine from our home, 

And make their Home more fair. 



THE DRUMMER BOY. 



T N the battle-cloud's eclipse, 

And a shower of shot and shell, 
With his soul upon his lips, 

Benny fell ; 
And they laid him stiff and cold, 
In the grave ; yet, why repine ? 
When he reached the gates of gold, 
If he had the countersign. 
All is well. 



Hallowed is the path he trod. 

And the little nameless knoll ; 
Earth has claimed his form, but God 
Claimed his soul ; 



94 



THE DRUMMER BOY. ^e 

Heaven's reveille, at dawn, 

Reached it through the battle's din ; 

When the last Relief came on, 

He was mustered out, — mustered in 
Was his soul. 



Pilgrim clouds in mourning deep, 

As they journey through the skies. 
Pause upon their Avay, to weep 

Where he lies ; 
But the sun when they are gone, 
Glorifies the tears they shed ; 
And o'er him, from dark to dawn, 
Stars and blue he loved are spread. 
In the skies. 



I 



w 



AFTER SUNSET. 



E do not mourn when the sun goes down, 
Because we see in the waning light, 



A promise writ in purple and gold, 

That he vv^ill come back at the end of night. 

But what if some world of beauty and bliss 

Should lure him av/ay ere the morrow's dawn ? 

Oh, the death and woe that would come to this — 
Thus I think when my Love is gone. 



But, she will not stay ; she is truer far 

Than the Sun with all of his million years ; 
Her native home is the fairest star 

That lights our planet among the spheres. 
But, her love for me is so fond and true, 

That her saintly soul is no longer drawn 
Back to her home in the misty blue — 

Thus I think when my Love is gone. 

96 



SOWING FOR OTHERS TO REAP. 



T7ROM the dawning of day till night, 

In the grainfield over the way, 
The son of the soil for daily hire, 

Is toiling his life away. 
Working, with want and pain, 

Ploughing the furrows so deep, 
Sowing the golden grain, — 

Sowing for others to reap. 

Yet, as he struggles and strives, 

Weary, and sad, and sore, 
A holy thought comes over his soul. 

As never it came before ; 
Hov/ the Son of high Heaven once trod 

Paths that were stony and steep, 
Sov/ing the blessings of God — 

Sowing, that others might reap. 

97 



HIS EYES. 



T) ENEATH black brdws, through long, dark lashes, 

When on me he turns his eyes, 
The tenderest light of heaven flashes. 

As the sun from darkened skies. 
Drops a glorious glance on some hill or meadow. 
While all the rest of the world is dim with shadow. 
And I feel as must feel the ripe, red clover. 
Blushing pink to her roots, as the sun hangs over. 
And gives to her only the smile of a lover. 



98 



THE ARMY REUNION. 



QAY, Sergeant, have you called the roll? 

Have all our comrades answered, "Here"? 
We must not miss a single soul 

On this one night of all the year. 
Call in the ranks of valiant men 

Who taught the Gods of ancient time, 
That heroes are more brave than then, 

And this is valor's chosen cHme. 



Let the bugle call ring out for all 

That bore the flag or wore the blue ; 
That scaled the bastion's fiery wall, 
That fought and bled where Logan led- 
Each gallant man with Sheridan, 

99 



THE ARMY REUNION. 

That bravely rode in Death's review- 
Where swarms of stinging bullets flew, 
Where horse and rider plunged and fell, 
Midst flash of gun anc^ burst of shell. 
And the thunderous tongue of the battle rung. 
And the sulphurous cloud of the battle hung. 
With not one sign of star or sky. 
Save where the old flag waved on high 
Its field of blue, its clustering stars. 

Like the swarming bees in the Pleaides, 
And spread its white and crimson bars, 
A type of heaven and morning glow, 
Above the clouds of death and woe. 



Call in the line where the pickets shine ! 

Call up the ranks where the martyrs lie ! 
They do but sleep in a deathless shrine — 
The Nation's hearts tliat warmly throb 
As the guns round Grant at Orchard Knob. 

Let us look once more in each flashing eye ! 
Let us clasp each patriot hand again! — 

Ah, there's nothing below like the battle's glow 
To melt together the hearts of men. 



THE A RM Y RE UNION. i o i 

Hail, " boys," for aye, though worn and gray ! 

Hail, heroes of the forward line ! 
Who wear no star but many a scar. 
Where valor set her mark that you 
May pass the gates of glory through, 

If you forget the countersign. 



Some of you come with a crutch or cane, 

With the leg that wore the prisoner's chain ; — 

Some with the wooden leg that show^s 

The hfe-long debt that the Nation owes ; 

Some wear the badge of an empty sleeve — 

The chevron honor and duty weave. 

And each of you proves by his answered name. 

That many a rifle missed its aim. 

You braved the withering fire, the smoke, 

The bayonet thrust, the saber stroke, 

The crimson-crested waves that broke 

On the front rank, on either flank. 
You charged where only glory leads. 
And stepping on grand and lofty deeds, 

You stole a march up the ghttering arch, 
Disguised in blue, and plucked and set 



THE A RM Y RE UNION. 

The stars in each General's epaulet ; 
And you in the battle's light that glowed, 

With the point of a bayonet, wrote his name 
In the warm, red ink that ebbed and flowed, 

High on the scroll of heroic fame — 
High on the heavenly muster rolls, — 
The roster of immortal souls. 



Yet, not all the blood of heroes runs 

Beneath a private's wounds and scars ; 
For here's a soldier whose rank was won 

On fields as red as fiery Mars, 
Till the stars came to him, one by one, 

Instead of his dying to reach the stars. 
And here is one of our own brave sons, 

Whose fame on a bloody page is told 
By a leg chipped off by the rebel guns ; — 

Ah, Death is a judge of the finest gold, 
And clips no coins but the purest ones. 



It is getting late : but we patient wait. 
For some of the guests are absent yet. 



THE ARMY REUNION. 103 

Is Kearney still at Malvern Hill ? 

Is Shaw on Wagner's parapet? 
Does Hooker yet o'er Lookout's height, 

Toward Mission Ridge the rebels press ? 
Does Sedgwick still in that fearful fight 

Lie wounded in the Wilderness ? 



And where is Thomas, whose proud name 

In a Nation's heart is shrined and blessed ? 
Is there nothing here but his fadeless fame 

To quicken the pulses in every breast ? 
And where is Custer, to whom was given 

A soul so brave, I beUeve that Death 
Fled from him aiid let him ride straight to heaven. 

Without the loss of a single breath. 



The flags are here whose bright stars shone 
Through the battle's cloud with a Hght divine, 

But where are the feet that bore them on, 
To the very verge of the enemy's Hne ? 

And where are the hands that beat the drum ? 
And where the Hps that the bugles blew ? 



1 04 THE A RM Y RE UNION. 

Ah, we call the roll, but they do not come, 
For bugle and drum and Hps are dumb — 
The cypress waves where the laurels grew — 
But Heaven's new Legion is dressed in blue. 

And this forever is God's own land ; 

For, furrowed and harrowed with shot and shell, 
It was thickly sown with the noblest band 

That ever for liberty fought and fell ; 
And now, upspringing on every side. 

The fairest flowers of Freedom rise. 
And waft their fragrance to those who died — 

To the grand Encampment in the skies. 

Ah, Bravest and Best ! Ah, noblest dead ! 

Who fought for Union and died to win it ; 
The earth is hallowed whereon you bled, 

And Heaven is brighter because you're in it ! 
But the angel of Peace now comes to rest 
In the happy land you saved and blessed ; 
And the skies each year draw near and near. 

There are new stars seen on the heavenly shore ; 
Are they camp-fires bright, or the beacon lights 

Set for us by the brothers whoVe gone before ? 



THE A RM V RE UNION. i o 5 

Your ranks grow fuller v/hile ours grow less. 

And every day our brave bo3^s wander, 
To enlist with you, o'er the stars and the blue 

That hallowed the flag you all fought under. 
When our camp-fires are low, we trust we shall go 

To hold a reunion in that fair region ; — 
Oh, comrades in Heaven, keep a place for our souls, 

On the muster-in-rolls of the Heavenly Legion ! 



OF PEARLS. 



T 1 /"HEN day her golden gate unbars, 
The pearly shells of ocean rise. 
And catch the tear-drops of the stars, 

That issue from their closing eyes ; 
And then, so runs the Latin line. 

From drops of dew and rays of sun, 
The little jewels swell and shine. 

Till all their mystic growth is done. 

And thus, I caught, in days of youth, 

Thy truths and precepts, which subHme, 
Were nourished by the rays of Truth, 

And moistened by the dews of Time ; 
And now when years with onward roll, 

Have passed me in life's mazy whirl, 
I ope the casket of my soul, 

And lo ! thy precepts are a pearl. 

io6 



THE CHURCH OF OUR FATHERS. 



TN the midst of God's Acre, just back from the street, 
Stands the church of our fathers — the church of our 
God; 
All its echoes of song are still tender and sweet, 

When we think of the hps that lie under the sod, — 
Of the hearts that beat time to the old-fashioned psalm, 
That shall nevermore thrill under sermon or prayer ; 
O souls that have entered the infinite calm, 

Let your blessing of peace now descend on us there ! 



Here our mothers have prayed ; here our sisters were wed ; 

Here our voices and hearts have been tuned in accord ; 
Here saints have communed with the saints overhead ; 
Here the sermon v/as said o'er the dust of our dead. 

And our children baptized in the name of the Lord ; 

107 



io8 THE CHURCH OF OUR FA THERS. 

Here our lips have been pressed to the cup that He 
blessed — 
The sacred bread broken — the solemn words spoken. 
In remembrance and name of the Saviour of men. 
When our souls soar awa.y to the unending Day, 
May they know the sweet peace that encompassed them 
then ! 



Then, by all the sweet thought that the sabbaths have 
brought — 

By the truth that's been taught — by the blessings we 
know; — 
By the Christians we love, that are waiting above — 

By the Christians below, that are waiting to go ; — 
Let the spirit of strife, all our envy and pride. 
Be at once crucified on the Cross by His side. 
While we go on together through sunshine and cloud, 

Hand in hand, to the church of our Father above ; 
O, how can our spirits be selfish and proud ! 

When the Master himself was all meekness and love ? 



M 



DIPPED IN SUNSET. 

(l. l. d. c.) 
Y old-time Friend, out in the dewy wood, 



Throuo;h whose ieaf-heav'n the sunbeams come 1 

■ '} 

to drink, I 

IVe Iain me down to see if here I could j 

Find aught to dream or think. J 

Here pools that bathe the foot of many a tree, \ 

Are making pictures set in frames of sod, ; 

And little spots of sky look down on me, 

Calm as the gaze of God. ; 

i 

•1 

His cloudy navies creep along the shore. 

With sails half-whitened by the rain and sun, 
And o'er yon hill a sailing seventy-four 

Fires off her thunder-gun. 

109 



no DIPPED IN SUNSET. 

Here I first saw the grassy fields grow brown ; 

And lo, one morning, on some gracious breeze, 
A dozen truant rainbows, floating down. 

Fell tangled in the trees. 

And I first saw these fiery forests fling 

Their gorgeous banners to the breezes' fold. 

And, yester-sunset, saw them crown a king 
In robes of red and gold. 

With cruel spear the sumacs drew the blood 
Of our dear Summer, to adorn their leaves ; 

And envious maples stole the sunset's flood, 
To match the autumn eves. 

But now they blush and tremble at the theft, 
And leaves let fall with dewy t^ars impearled. 

As if they'd still some sense of honor left. 
To shame this wicked world. 

How straightway, as I think, come back to me. 
The summer days of glory without glare, 

The all-embracing heavens, the sunset sea, 
With warm isles floating there ! 



DIPPED IN SUNSE T. n i 

And sweet as changes of the church's chimes, 

I hear the river ripphng out its lays, 
Through all that blessedest of summer-times, — 

Those goldenest of days. 

But frost and \vinds have wasted all the flowers. 

And other rainbows ga.ther in my eyes, 
I cannot leave those all too happy hours, — 
. That piece of Paradise ; 

And I am praying that some blessed day, 

When winds are warmer and the skies more bland, 

This lovely year will lose her path, and stray 
Back to her native land. 



L 



LOVE AND LAW. 

T T EAVEN brings love, and sin brings law ; 

Vvliere Christ doth dwell, there love must be 
And if thou lovest, happiness 

Will fold her wings and abide with thee. 



Love takes her own sweet, happy way ; 

She is most pure, and has no thought 
For anything less pure than she ; 

She vvalks with Law, but knows it not. 



No bond as light as a spiders thread 
Binds her, or turns to left or right ; 

She follows the lead of her own sweet will, 
And v/aiks by love and not by sight. 

112 



LOVE AND LAW. 



113 



She knows no higher power or law, — 
The one thing here of immortal birth ; — 

Ah, earth is too heavy to rise to Heaven, 

But Heaven hath wings and can come to earth ! 



But, when pure Love is touched by sin. 
She quickly shows her deep distress. 

And straightv/ay, looks with blushing shame. 
For leaves to hide her nakedness. 



The hand of Law is on her laid ; 

The world no more is pure and fair; 
She sees the trail of the serpent, Sin, 

And his death-angel, everywhere. 



O blessed bhndness ! happy sense 
Of him whose weakness, failure, loss. 

Can only walk with Providence ; — 
Who cannot stand unless the Cross 



114 LOVE AND LAW. 

Be near to lean upon ; on him 
Love doth bestow diviner things ; 

He sees, where other eyes are dim ; 
Where others walk, he useth wings. 



THE PINES. 



'T^HE scowling, piney wood uprears 

Against the storm, its thousand spears 
And though it bends beneath the shock, 
It stands as firmly as the rock 
Beneath its feet ; the angry gale 
Fhes on it, clad in frozen mail, 
And beats it with an icy flail. 
The dark wood writhes and moans in pain. 
Retreats, and then springs back again, 
And bending thus, its willowy form 
Wears out, at last, the vengeful storm. 

And so, when skies are overcast, 
And storms beat on us fierce and fast, 

We may by bending, while contending. 
Weary, and wear them out, at last. 

115 



THE GRAINFIELD. 



T7ROM dewy mom till set of sun, 

The farmer reaps his fruitful lands ; 
And wheat and tares together fall 

Beneath the strength of hardened hands ; 
God grant that when the harvest's done, 
The horn of plenty'll overrun. 



The songs of scythes and merry men, 
The laughing jest and echoing shout, 

Beguile the weary hours, and then. 
The farmer's children have come out 

To romp upon the ripened grain, 

Or ride upon the groaning wain. 

116 



I 



THE GRAINFIELD. I17 

When twilight creeps along the plain, 
The farmer homeward hauls his store ; 

His children ride upon the grain, 
His wife is waiting at the door ; 

Methinks no happier home is found 

Than his, in all the country round. 



NIGHT AT SANTA FE. 



T IFTED far up above the level sea, 

Seven thousand feet into the heavenly biue, 

I look off on the happy scenes I knew, 
The mountain home where all my treasures be, — 
Whose angel-dreams at least must pass by me, — 

The narrow vale, the river winding through ; 

The sleeping city ; down each avenue. 
White as the robe of fair Penelope, 

The moon unrolls her mantle ; on its hem. 
Shadows in silver frames and lights are set, 

Like dew-drops with the moon's own light in them 
And all the rest in silent silhouette — 

Save where the river shining Hke a gem, 
Copies and keeps the heaven it fell from, yet. 



ii8 



THE BLUEBIRDS. 



T^EAR minstrels of the early Spring 

If you would nearer come, 
And see the welcome in my heart, 

You there would build your home. 
Already ypu have won the wings 

That are but promised me ; 
And all the soul within you sings, 

While mine still mute must be. 

Oh, for the power to lay aside 

This dull and stupid sense ! 
To see as birds and insects do, 

The ways of Providence ; — 
To feel far off the coming Spring, — 

To soar o'er mountain height, 
And keep on Hght, unconscious wing, 

Both earth and heaven in sight. 

119 



DEATH AND DARKNESS. 

T^HROUGH death and darkness Nature sends 

Her gifts to those unmindful of her ; 
The empty bough breaks not nor bends ; 

The faUing leaves the fruit uncover ; 
The sweetest woman, wife or friend, 
Is only a woman till death impend, 

And makes her an angel to those who love her. 

In senseless clay and darkest night, 
The seeds their little lives surrender : 

No tears of sorrow dim our sight. 

Save when the heart is warm and tender, — 

Mere worthless tears, but seen aright. 

Through larger lens, in Heaven's light. 
They yet may shine with rarest splendor. 

I20 



DEA Tfl AND D. 1 RKNESS. 1 2 1 

The sky's baptismal dew descends. 

Alone when evening shadows hover ; 
Only in storm the rainbow bends 

From earth to heaven, the mountains over. 
The rose with rare remembrance blends 
In her dark root, when winter ends — 

Without one ray let in above her — 
The sunlight's brightest hues, and sends 

Them up to gladden those who love her. 



Then, welcome^night, the darkened skies, \ 

Through which the trooping stars are driven ; i 

The fading leaf or flower that dies 

That brighter leaf or flower may rise ; 

The sunset clouds, the shades of even, | 

The little glimpse of Paradise 

We catch when life through death is given ; \ 



The shadow of the Cross that lies 
Along our path, and shields our eyes 
From all the dazzling light of Hea\^en. 



IN JUNE. 



^'T^IS the marriage-month of the Earth and Sim- 
Through the restless sea, — 
Through shrub and tree, 
The earth's heart goes with a quicker beat ; 
The air is throbbing with h'fe and heat ; 
The West is golden, the East is red, 
And all the meadows between are spread 
With star-eyed daisies and garlands gay. 
To deck the earth on her wedding-day. 



A thousand times has she been won 
By kisses of the amorous sun ; 

And always in delicious June ; 
And now, as if her heart were stirred 
For the first time, by some sweet word 



7M JUNE. 123 

Of youthful love, she doth arise 

With her brides-maid, the modest moon, 
And hastens forth in wondrous guise 
To meet her lover in the skies. 



The clouds roll out of the azure spaces, 
The stars go into their hiding-places, 
And only shed their trembHng light 
About her feet all shod with Night. 
Far off some envious stars look on 
With a blue veil over their faces drawn, 
But none of the bright orbs dare to run 
Near the bridal-path of the earth and sun. 

Down many a cloudy lane she goes, 

Waltzing, waltzing, on her way. 
Upon her breast the rarest rose, 
And every fragrant flower that blows — 

As she goes waltzing on her way. 
The sweetest perfume fills the air 
From orange-blossoms in her hair ; 
The richest frankincense and myrrh 
On fleets of wind are borne with her ; 



124 IN JUNE. 

And down the fragrant, rosy miles, 

O'er towering tree and mountain peak. 
She sees her lover's morning smiles 

That mantle all her rounded cheek ; 
In many a lake and stream at rest 
She folds his image to her breast, 
While many a wood and meadow ring 
With wedding-notes of birds that sing 
Too deep for our interpreting ; 
And o'er her, all her journey through, 
There gently floats and swings the true, 
Dear marriage-bell of heavenly blue. 
Oh, the songs that the streamlets play ! 
Oh, the love that the songsters say ! 
Oh, the sweets in the earth's bouquet, 
When she goes forth on her wedding-day! 



THE BURIAL OF THE YEAR. 



T N the dead hush of night when the world was all still, 
And the clouds lay in ambush o'er mountain and hill; 
When the sword of Orion was pointing the way 
The pure spirit takes to the mansions of day, 
Lo ! out of the East, like the sound of the sea. 
Marching west with the stars, came a great company, 
Over mountain and plain, in a journey subhme. 
Keeping step to the beat of the seconds of Time. 



As they came down the valley and slowly swept past, 
They bore the Old Year just breathing his last ; 
And a thousand fair forms that had faded and died, 
The father, the mother, the husband, the bride, 

125 



126 THE BURIAL OF THE YEAR. 

The wreckage of hopes where the tempest had passed, 
The joy of a moment, the spirit of pride. 



The ruler was there, but his sceptre and throne 

Were left in a country no longer his own ; 

The hero was there, but no Juggernaut car. 

Or the pageant and pomp of victorious war, — 

The statesman, but mute was his eloquent tongue, — 

The singer, but hushed was the song that he sung. 

And here was a father, bearing solemn and slow 

The pride of his Hfe and the weight of his woe ; 

And a mother was there with the babe that she bore, 

Still keeping the smile that its innocence wore — 

But it never will nestle or cry any more. 

And here was the Spring, all reft of her bloom, 

The sad, silent Summer, no song or perfume. 

The soft, tender light that lay deep in the blue 

Eyes of the girl that was dreaming of you 

A dream of sweet life that shall never come true. 

For, no smile on her face, no pulse in her breast. 

No rose in the cheek that her passion confessed. 

And the hand that you clasped, and the brow you caressed. 



THE RURIAL OF THE YEAR. 127 

The lips that you kissed, and the heart that you blessed, 
Were withered and cold, and forever at rest. 



But in the dead march there were anthem and hymn 
That swelled from the vale to its mountainous rim ; 
And some were so sweet that I think a few bars 
Must have gone up to God in the steps of the stars ; 
And I caught a few words of a comforting lay 
Of a dear Httle maid that one desolate day. 

Wandered out of her home to the brink of life's even, 
And found her own way 
To the unending Day, 

And she never has had to be christened in Heaven, 
For the angels still call her: "Our dear little May." 

Storm may wreck and death may sever ^ 
Sin may blight^ but buds that never 
Ope the sweet hearts in their bosoms^ 
Till ifs time for heavenly blossofns, 
They are safe and fair forever. 



' So, the mighty procession moved on to the West, 
From the valley of Life to the valley of Rest ; 



128 THE BURIAL OF THE YEAR. 

And as it drew near to the grave of the Years, 
While the skies were in mourning and clouds were in tears, 
And the breezes of midnight moaned low in the gloom. 
Like the voice of a Lazarus heard from the tomb, — 
Lo ! the marvelous clock in the belfry of Time 
Commenced striking the years, with a clangor and chime 
That made the earth tremble, and echoed afar, 
From heaven to heaven, from planet to star ; 

And I counted and heard till it struck eight3'-nine. 
Then back from the West, Hke the flight of a bird. 
In a tone sad and solemn as ear ever heard, 
The wind brought a hymn without dropping a word : 



I. 



Old Year! Rest! thy work is done. 

Thou sJialt see Earth'' s sin and sorrow 
Nevermore^ beneath the sun ; 

Ere the daianing of the morrow^ 
Other hands shall ring the chime 
Of the morning march of lime. 

Old Year! Rest! thy work is done. 



THE BURIAL OF THE YEAR. 129 

// 

Angel spirits ! Haste^i home! 

All thy sins have been forgiven ; 
Snow-flakes falling fro7n the dome, 

Are a pure, white sign from Heaven, 
That the gates have opened there. 
To the touch of Faith and Prayer. 

Angel spirits ! Hasten home! 



HI. 

Stricken Mourners ! WJierefore weep ? 

Love is kin to Love super?tal ; 
Death is but a little sleep, 

Between two days, and otie's eternal. 
Earth sJiall bloom again, in token. 
That no bud is lost or broken ; 
Life and hope shall take new iving. 
With returning birds, in Spring. 

Stricken Mourners! Wherefore weepi 



DOES SHE LOVE ME? 

T^OES she love me? That is Greek, 

Far too deep for me to know. 
Do the sweet lips always speak 

From the heart's deep overflow ? 
Can I tell each gentle sigh 

Is the breath of answering love ? 
Are the glances of her eye 

Forged by Cupid or by Jove ? — 
Only this to me is known, 
That I love her, her alone ; 
Only this I clearly see, 
She is more than earth can be. 
And full half of heaven to me. 

130 



DOES SHE LOVE ME? 

Does she love me ? Do I know- 
Christ has risen from the tomb ? 
Or where roses when they blow, 
Get their color and perfume ? 
Faith would have no mission here, 

Hope would still in heaven be. 
If I did not trust the dear 

Pledges of her love for me. 
Though I cannot prove it mine 
By an algebraic sign. 
Yet, as love divinely grows, 
It beHeves and feels and knows. 
Thus, through soul and every sense, 
Her true love gives evidence ; 
And I clear and clearer see 
She is more than earth can be, 
And full half of heaven to me. 



131 



MY BURDENS. 



nPHE burdens laid on me are light 

As the breath of a child in a quiet night; 
Or I have grown so strong to bear, 
They seem mere shadows of toil and care, 
As the heavy clouds o'er the meadows tread, 
Without bending even a daisy-head. 



By night, across my slumbers sweep 
Such dreams as only come and keep 
A watch on earth, when sin doth sleep 
By day, the glorious light is such 
I wonder Heaven can spare so much,— 
The very clouds are lined with light. 
Upon the heaven-side pure and white. 
But blue and gold and red I see 

132 



MY BURDENS. 



m 



Upon the earth-side nearest me, \ 

And new-created earth and skies \ 

Dawn daily on my wondering eyes. : 



If days grow dark, if care and pain 
Press close and sharp on heart and brain, 
These lovely pictures still shall bloom 
Upon the walls of Memory's room ; 
I still shall keep, I trust, the love 
Of one below and One above ; 
I still shall keep a memory bright 
Of these dear days — of how the hght 
On Horeb's hill once seemed to shine 
Upon this peaceful hearth of mine. 
And all was sweet, and fair, and good. 
As if this mountain home had stood 
On mount of the Beatitude ; 
And, thus remembering, thankful be 
That God has been so good to me. 



YOUR BIRTHNIGHT. 

TT AIL, wonderful Night ! the shadows are furled 
Out of the heavens and around the world, 
And into your sight, undazzled by light. 
All the orbs of the Universe now are whirled. 
Out of the skies all the clouds are driven, 
The Earth alone is to darkness given ; 
Christ has been sent to the stars of even. 
And every one has been forgiven. 
And is blossoming out through all the heaven. 

In one short hour — O wondrous view ! — 
A ghttering splendor fills the blue. 
And skies are all created new. 
You turn your wondering eyes above. 
And straightway see the meaning of 

134 



YOUR BIRTHNIGHT. 135 

That God is Light as well as Love ; 

You know why wings to light are given, 

Like angels to go out of heaven, 

To bless and brighten, and Hft the curse 

Of darkness and death from the Universe,— 

Why every rainbow tint that falls 

From the golden streets and the jasper walls, 

Is woven into each glorious ray, — 

Why God, in every flower and tree, 
And every seed m the lifeless clay. 
Struggles and climbs to the light of day, — 
Why evep the moth in the flame wiU fly, 

And perish to set its spirit free. 
Rather than be a worm and die. 
And gain its wings in the butterfly. 

As planet to sun is drawn, and draws 
The star in turn, through God's own laws, . 
So the soul is drawn to its primal Cause. 
And as even the smallest spark will fly 
And spend its Httle life, to try 
To reach the sparkHng stars on high, 
So every spark of the flame divine 
Flies up to God in the orbs that shine. 



136 YOUR BIR THNIGH T. 

As into your eyes falls the vestal light, 
Your brooding soul starts up and flies 
Across the evening's shadowy bars, 
Beyond the blue, beyond the night. 

Through the white atmosphere of stars,- 
Out in the path of suns that rise 
On other worlds and other skies, — 
Looking and longing to find and rest 
On the natal star where it once was blessed. 



Oh, if it only could remember 

The way it came that calm November 

Night in the shadowy long ago ! 
Oh, if it only had left a sign 

On some fixed star, that it might know 
Its glad way back to the world divine ! 



It cannot tell the course it came ; 
Its eyes are blinded by the blaze 
Of suns that crowd the heavenly ways ; 
Its path is lost amid the maze 

Of the Milky Way, whose myiiad stars 



YOUR BIRTHNIGHT. 137 

Flow on and on like a flood of flame, 

Into the everlasting seas ; 

But for the clustering Pleiades, 

And the steady signaUight of Mars, 
It could not tell where in the skies 
The weary world in darkness lies. 

It could not know a way to go ; 
For, being still of sin unshriven. 
No instinct leads it on to Heaven ; 
And yet the dreams of Heaven that keep 
It longing and restless in its sleep, 
The homesick sense of heavenly birth, — 
AU draw it away from the sinful earth. 



Like a bird set free in alien skies. 
In widening circles, it flies and flies, 
Hoping to hear some guiding tone. 
To feel some breeze out of Heaven blown. 
To find some sign of its native zone, 
But heareth and feeleth and findeth none. 
Weary and lone it wanders back, 
Adown a star's iUumined track, 
(To the only home that is now its own); 



138 YOUR BIRTHNIGHT. 

For, wherever the wing of a deathless soul 

Or light can go, or a planet roll, 

There is each star's faint aureole ; 

And no matter how faint, no matter how far. 

At least one ray of every star 

Falls gladly from its heavenly height. 

Falls bravely through tlie sun's lierce light. 

Falls trembling through the gloomiest night, 

Straight to the earth in her weary flight ; 

Its end in a drop of dew impearled, 

Like a hfe-line cast to a sinful world. 



Dear Christ in Heaven, whose favorite star 
The wise men led to thy manger-bed! 

Oh, show to me where its glories are ! 
And lift the glass darkly, that I may see 

It beckon and beam in the eastern skies. 

Like a lamp in the windows of Paradise, 
To lead my unsatisfied soul to Thee. 



NOTE. 



NOTE. 

The verses entitled "The Children," are invariably credited to 
the author in School-books and Collections of Verse, but as they 
have been widely copied in American and English newspapers over 
the name of Charles Dickens, it may not be out of place to print 
the following note from the ?on of the dead Novelist : 

Hotel, Brunswick, New York, I 
October 29th, 1887. ( 
Dear Sir: In reply to the letter which Mr. Will,iam Henry 
Smith has been good enough to forward to me, I willingly testify to 
the fact that the poem "The Children," \\hich has so often been 
erroneously attributed to ray father, was not written by him ; and 
that, far from having claimed it as his, I have written during the 
last seventeen years, a large number of betters, and have many times 
inserted in my magazine, Houselwld Words, answers to correspond- 
ents, stating that the story about the poem having been found in 
my father's desk after his death was entirely apocryphal, and that I 
was altogether unaware to whom the credit of the authorship of the 
verses was due. 1 am, dear sir, faithfully yours, 

Charles Dickens. 
Chas. M. Dickinson, Esq., 

" Daily Republican," Binghamton, N. Y. 



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